


On With the Show

by selecasharp



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Exhibitionism, Feelings, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 08:08:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6276376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selecasharp/pseuds/selecasharp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek knows Stiles is there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On With the Show

His shirt goes first. Derek pulls it off, slowly, then lets it drop onto the bed behind him. His jeans are next; he slips the button and then skims them down over his thighs, letting them puddle on the floor around his calves. 

Last, his boxers. He hooks his thumbs in the elastic and peels them down. They join his jeans on the floor, and Derek steps out of them both and sits down on the mattress. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t look over at the slightly open door to his room, even when there’s a sudden intake of breath from that direction, followed by a thump and a string of whispered cursing.

Derek lies back, fighting the smile that threatens to break out on his face. He knows that breathing, that voice. He knows that scent, familiar and strong. 

He knows who’s there.

No one else is in the house, he’s sure. So Derek lifts his hands and runs them down over the planes of his chest, circling his nipples with the pads of his fingers. He can hear the breathing catch, and he can’t stop the smile this time. He pinches his nipples, letting out a little gasp of his own, and then moves his hands down.

The breathing’s louder, now.

He spreads his thighs, angling his hips slightly so the view from the door is better, and then slowly wraps his hand around his burgeoning erection. Closing his eyes, he strokes himself once, breathing in deep. Scenting _him_. His cock goes rigid under his palm, pulsing and hot. 

“Oh god,” he hears, faintly. 

That voice. Derek growls softly to himself and jerks his cock again, squeezing the shaft, rubbing his thumb over the head, picturing another hand touching him. 

_His_ hand. 

Panting now, Derek lifts his other hand and slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them. Another gasp from the doorway, followed by the sound of shuffling feet. He pops his fingers free and slides them down over his hip before trailing them even lower. Touching himself there, where he knows Stiles can see.

_Stiles._

He keeps his movements slow, lazy. Makes it a show. His hand, curled around his cock, stroking. His other hand, fingers still wet with saliva, teasing. His thighs shaking at the sensations he’s drawing from his own body. And his mind, alive with images of him. Of Stiles’s hands, doing this to him. Of his own, touching Stiles.

“Stiles,” he murmurs out loud, stroking himself harder. They’ve kissed, yes. Made out, even. But they’ve never touched each other like this, never caressed each other’s naked bodies or scented each other’s skin. He breathes in again, savoring the scent of him, so close. It’s sharper now, stronger. Aroused.

Derek forgets, then, that it’s a show. His toes curl against the sheets as he thumbs over the head of his cock, as the tip of one finger presses inside of him. Stiles’s scent is overwhelming him now, kissing over his skin, filling his senses. He cries out when he comes, his cock painting streaks over his abdomen, his lips forming the shape of Stiles’s name.

“I know you’re there,” he says, when he can talk again.

Stiles peeks around the edge of the door, his face flushed, his short hair mussed. He’s still fully dressed, Derek notes with some amusement, though he’s got an obvious erection tenting his jeans. “Smelled me, huh?” he asks, wry.

“And heard.” Derek makes himself sit up, with some difficulty. He stretches, lifting his arms above his head, arching his back. When he lowers them, Stiles is staring at him, biting his lip. Derek feels a flash of heat spike through him at that. He wants to bite those lips. To taste them.

Stiles clears his throat. “Did you know I was there the whole — what am I saying, of course you did. Super wolf.” He shakes his head, cheeks flaming. “So did you, uh. Do it…?”

“For you?” Derek stands and faces him. He’s still smiling, he realizes. But then, Stiles is here. He crosses the room, until they’re mere inches apart, and just looks at him. Taking him in. 

Stiles blinks up at him, his eyes wide, his body trembling. “Did you?” he whispers. “I mean, uh, you probably didn’t because why would you, I’m—”

“Of course I did,” Derek says, and kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> Written a while ago, for the [you know they are mates](http://youknowtheyaremates.tumblr.com) tumblr, with merakieros making the gif. See [here](http://youknowtheyaremates.tumblr.com/post/128589263890/his-shirt-goes-first-derek-pulls-it-off-slowly) for the inspiration. :D NSFW!
> 
> Crossposted to LJ [here](http://teashopmuses.livejournal.com/97053.html).


End file.
